The Man in the Glass
by Rae666
Summary: Dean's reflection ain't exactly copying him, instead it's tormenting him about his exploits in Hell. Angsty one shot. Spoilers for S4.


_The Man in the Glass_

A/N: This is a one shot experiment that I wanted to do. I've been wanting to try writing in first person POV for awhile and so I decided why not give it a shot in a slightly angsty one shot dedicated to my readers because you guys are absolutely awesome and I thank you for your patience and the time that you take to read my stuff. A little belated Christmas gift for the angst fans. Thank you!

Warning - Mild swear words, spoilers for season 4 and the usual stuff.

Disclaimer - I own neither the poem nor the characters from Supernatural.

The story itself got its inspiration from the poem by Dale Wimbrow:

_When you get what you want in your struggle for self  
And the world makes you king for a day  
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself  
And see what THAT man has to say. _

_For it isn't your father or mother or wife  
Whose judgment upon you must pass  
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life  
Is the one staring back from the glass. _

_Some people may think you a straight-shootin' chum  
And call you a wonderful guy,  
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum  
If you can't look him straight in the eye. _

_He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest,  
For he's with you clear up to the end,  
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test  
If the man in the glass is your friend. _

_You may fool the whole world down the pathway of life  
And get pats on your back as you pass,  
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears  
If you've cheated the man in the glass. _

And now for the story! Hope you enjoy!

-.-.-.-.-.-

Some days… some days I really love this job. I love the feel of my Desert Eagle in my hand, my finger playing on the trigger - ready and waiting. I love the warmth of the fires in the graves as the bones slowly turn to ash and I can relax just a little knowing that's another ghostie gone. The smell ain't quite as pleasant but I've learned to hold my breath.

Most of all though, I love kicking back with Sammy and grabbing a cold one when we've made it back safe from a job well done - or in this case, a Wendigo extremely well done, extra crispy if you know what I mean.

But when your back is scratched to pieces and you can't put any weight on your left leg without cursing like a sailor, it's a little hard to just kick back. It's even harder to take a swig of beer when your brother snatches the bottle from your hand and replaces it with several assorted pills - a cocktail of drugs, as he goes in search of the first aid kit.

It wasn't that bad. Or at least that's what I was trying to convince myself. And I was doing a pretty bad job of that. As I shifted on the bed, dragging my legs up so I could lie down on the murky yellow sheets, I had to bite down pretty damn hard to stop from calling out. I couldn't stop the hiss that followed though, my back arching as the deep scratches stung painfully from coming into contact with the sheets.

So yeah, maybe it was _a little_ bad and maybe demons were only _a little_ evil and vampires only _a little_ blood thirsty. It hurt like hell and I gladly brought the handful of pills up to my mouth, wishing I had a bottle of whiskey to chase them down with.

Closing my eyes, I rested my forearm over them and let go of a deep sigh that had been building up inside of me for most of the day. It was nice to finally get it out now Sammy wasn't anywhere within earshot. And it was that knowledge that turned my blood to ice as I heard a faint chuckle from somewhere inside the room.

With the composure of a mouse who'd just been startled by a giant furball of a cat, I bolted up, suddenly aware of my heart beating in my chest, thudding hard against my ribcage. My eyes searched the darkened room, adjusting to the light, or lack of, quick enough to see that I was alone and somehow that wasn't all that comforting. The bathroom door stood ajar and I strained my ears, listening for any other sounds that may echo out from inside the room.

Sam chose that moment of course to enter from outside, first aid kit in one hand, keys to the Impala in the other. I gave a subtle nod of my head towards the bathroom when he looked my way and then watched as he switched to hunter mode, placing the items on the edge of my bed before creeping over to the bathroom. His hand weaved around to his back, gripping the gun that had been tucked in his waistband for easy access and drawing it smoothly.

He made quick work of checking the bathroom, making too much noise when he came out to have found anything. "It's empty." He stated with a shake of his head, placing his gun on the table and picking up the first aid kit instead, switching the main light on as he wandered over to me.

"You sure?" There was a whine to my voice that made me cringe internally but who could blame me? I heard someone laugh. Someone had been in the room and now they weren't… I hadn't imagined it, I couldn't have.

He raised his eyes to look at me without raising his head._ The Look._ The one that was generally accompanied by a snarky comment of some kind, he'd learned it from me. "Well, there's this rubber duck in there that I'm sure was watching me the whole time I was checking the place, then there was the silhouette behind the shower curtain and I think there was an eye staring at me from down the plugho-"

I held up my hands in defeat stopping him mid word as I rolled my eyes in mock annoyance, "You went too far when you hit the rubber duck."

The sound of ripping brought my attention back down to his hands as they pulled at the leg of my jeans, ripping the material so it revealed the deep cuts and purple bruises on my leg. He'd done it without asking and the glint in his eye told me that he knew I'd have only objected anyway. Damn little brothers thinking they knew best. This was my best pair of jeans! My favourite! And he just went and ruined them.

He grabbed the rubbing alcohol and poured it generously on the open wound before I could even open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind though. Instead, what had been an objection now turned into incoherent curse words and a deep throaty growl. My eyes landed on him, staring intently at his pure evilness but he went on as if he wasn't aware of what he'd just done or the fact that my eyes read 'try that again and I'm selling you to the circus'.

But he knew alright.

"So why'd you want me to check the bathroom?" he asked as he wrapped up the wound on my leg and indicated for me to roll over so he could see to my back as well. He was trying to distract himself from the task at hand, the same way I would whenever I had to stitch him up and clean his wounds. Nothing like working on an injured family member to remind you just how risky the job was.

I hesitated on rolling over at first, knowing that he'd destroy my shirts just like he had my jeans but if my back looked as bad as it felt, chances were both my shirts were already ruined. So I rolled over, biting my lip as I moved my leg and only answering when I was completely still. "I heard something… laughter."

"Probably from the next room over."

I held back the hiss as he cut the shirts away, the fabric not so willing to be separated from the blood it had become so fond off. Who needed superglue, eh? "Nah, it was inside the room…"

He paused in his movements, even his lungs stilling for a moment as he listened for any signs of intruders but when none came, he started moving again, dabbing the slashes on my back. "Dude, the place is clean. And I was just outside, I would have seen someone come in or even leave for that matter."

I opened my mouth to reply, breathing in sharply instead though as he caught an extra delicate area. The drugs were helping though at least, the pain slightly numbed but not enough. When he moved his hands away for a fresh pad, I took my opportunity. "I swear Sammy, I heard something."

"Did you take those pills I gave you?" he went on, returning to dab the cuts and rendering me only able to nod in reply. "Then it's probably just them affecting you."

"So you think I'm hallucinating?" I ground out, my hands gripping the sheets beneath me tightly as I tried to relieve the pain a little. "I know what I heard Sam."

"Just like you knew who I was when I woke you from that nightmare?"

That was a cheap, cheap shot and he knew it. I gritted my teeth, not from the pain but instead to keep myself from biting back and saying something I might regret. Well, that explained why he wasn't so willing to jump up and get another room.

"I'm sorry…" He said after a moment, "I didn't mean that."

"Forget it Sammy."

"Dee-aan." He pleaded, hearing the level tone in my voice. He knew I was pissed.

"I said forget it Sam. Just finish my back so we can get some sleep."

I didn't bother telling him that the damage was already done, he'd figure that much out on his own. But in a way, I figured I kinda earned the remark, like it was payback for what had happened. Not that I didn't already feel like pure grade A shit about the whole thing to start with but hey, why not throw in a little more guilt Sammy - I'm good for it.

I'd been waiting for it though. It was only a matter of time. That's what happened when you lived on top of each other twenty-four seven and left things unsaid, eventually they came out and when they did, it always stung like hell.

And speaking of Hell… the nightmares of the place were getting worse. That was what I'd been dreaming about when Sam woke me up. A mistake on his part. I didn't exactly wake up properly at first, the memories of the dream all still too fresh in my mind. I'd grabbed the knife from beneath my pillow and had lunged out; lashing out at Sam and only realising what I was doing when I had him pinned to the ground, knife up against his throat.

Sam coughed gently behind me, pulling me from the memory. I realised he was finished when I heard the zip of the first aid kit and felt the weight on the bed shift as he stood up. He moved away silently and I rolled over, sitting up long enough to pull my boots off before shuffling under the covers, not even bothering the take off what was left of my jeans. It was too much hassle and all I wanted to do was sleep.

Well, that was a lie. All I wanted to do was get away from the deep echoing silence that had fallen between me and Sam, and the soulful puppy eyes that I could feel watching me. We'd had enough chick flick moments lately to last a freaking lifetime so I wasn't keen on having anymore soon.

As Sam turned off the light and slipped under his own covers, I lay there listening, not even pretending to be asleep. It was a waste of time. He wouldn't believe it anyway, not when I rarely slept easily since coming back. Just like I wouldn't have believed he'd slip off so easily into dreamland either. Instead we both lay awake and in silence for nearly half an hour at my best guess, that was when Sammy slowly slipped off, light snores filling the room.

And just when I could feel myself going, just when I was disappearing into a hopefully dreamless sleep, that damn laughter filled the room. It was louder than before and I could tell it was coming from behind the bathroom door. Yep, whoever the hell was laughing at me was in the bathroom and I wasn't imagining it.

Scowling, I threw off my sheets and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I made sure to keep more weight on my right leg as I hobbled over to the bathroom, picking up Sam's gun from the table as I passed it. Human, spirit or demon, whoever was inside there was going to pay for taunting me and keeping me awake.

My hand gripped the handle and turned it, my body tingling with anticipation and maybe just that little bit of fear as my mind went over what could be waiting for me on the other side of the door. Most likely, I decided, it would be a wolf in sheep's clothing, a demon hidden behind the face of a human. A face you could trust; a friend, a neighbour, a random guy from the street that any other day you might smile at… hell, demons weren't even above using kids as a mask to hide their evil intentions - I'd learned that much with Lilith.

Pushing open the door, I let go of the handle and instead used my hand to steady my other as I aimed the gun into the room. But I was greeted by nothing - no hideous faces, no black eyed demons, there wasn't even the rubber duck that Sam had mentioned earlier. To make matters worse, the place was silent, the only sound coming when I limped further into the room, socked feet thumping gently against the tiled floor.

Maybe I_ had_ imagined it. Maybe I was hallucinating, waking nightmares tormenting me now as well. Awesome, just awesome. If that was true then I was well and truly screwed. There was no way I'd be able to hide something like that from Sam.

I moved further into the room, lowering my gun and relaxing a little. Pulling back the shower curtain, I didn't expect to find anything but in the back of my head I was hopeful, anything to prove that I wasn't crazy. Then I heard it again, a malicious snigger from behind me and I swung to face the cold hard eyes staring back at me.

My face formed a frown as my reflection lifted its lips up into a sly smirk, tilting its head to the side as if to say 'how'd you do?'. Before I could even think to call out to Sam though, the bathroom door slammed shut and I knew without even having to try it that it would be locked. Well at least one thing was comforting - I hadn't imagined it after all.

Though considering I was now alone, facing some unknown creature that was currently possessing my reflection… yeah, that wasn't really that comforting.

"What are you?" I asked, choosing my words carefully because this definitely wasn't a case of _who_ but more a case of _what_. I made sure to keep my distance, my body tensing as my fingers flexed and my grip was readjusted on the gun.

There was a twinkle in the creature's eye as it gazed at me, a look of mock innocence plastered across its face. Smarmy sonuvabitch, I would have wiped that smile of its face if it hadn't been for the glass separating us.

"You know exactly who I am." It uttered casually, the sound of my own voice reaching my ears and making me cringe. Did I really sound like that? Sam hadn't been kidding that time he recorded me speaking and played it back to me…

"No really, I have no clue so why don't you just enlighten me so I can find out how to kill you and be on my merry way." My finger slid over the trigger of the gun as I spoke and I fought against the urge to raise it and just fill the damn mirror full of holes.

"Oh come on Dean, I know you ain't always the brightest of the bunch but you ain't stupid either." It mocked, eyes dropping to my itchy trigger finger and sniggering for a moment before its hazel eyes met mine once more, "I'm the man in the mirror my boy… I'm your conscience, and I gotta say, I ain't impressed."

"If you say so," I returned smoothly as I tried to pretend that my heart hadn't suddenly started pumping even faster and that the palms of my hands hadn't suddenly started sweating uncontrollably. But staring into those eyes, watching the dark shadows in the reflection, I felt like it was useless because essentially all I was doing was lying to myself.

I was terrified. The way this thing looked at me was like the judge, jury and executioner, its eyes already betraying that it thought I was guilty of whatever crimes it claimed I had committed. There was a deep disappointment lingering in the dark orbs too though, anger, hatred and bitter disappointment.

"How many Dean?" It asked me and I knew exactly what it meant before it bothered explaining itself further, "How many souls did you throw up on the rack? How many innocent souls did you help destroy? How many did you break completely?"

"Shut up." I warned the creature through clenched teeth, my empty hand forming a tight fist at my side as the anger spread throughout me.

I knew what I had done. I didn't need reminding. I knew exactly how many souls; I remembered every single face, every single tear and every single cry of pain. And while very few of them could truly be called innocent, none of them deserved that. No one deserved that kind of Hell, no one…

"Oh that's right, I forgot. You lasted thirty years. Thirty long hard years filled with endless torture. What was it Sam said? You lasted longer than most men or something along those lines?" It pouted at me, an exaggerated expression of compassion and sadness showing that it held no true empathy behind those words, "But how long do you think Daddy Winchester lasted? He was down there for a whole year… can you imagine the things he went through? The things he _did_ to other souls?"

"Don't you talk about my Dad!" I screamed out, baring my teeth and raising the gun threateningly. But the reflection merely eyed it as if it were nothing more than a water pistol and as I struggled to keep my game face on, I realised that to this creature, the gun was probably as harmless as one.

"What you gonna do? Shoot me? Don't be pathetic. It'll do you no good and you know it."

"It'll make me feel better."

"Is that how you justify what you did down there? It made you feel better? It stopped the pain?"

"You think I don't regret it?" I growled at it, inching closer to the glass to show that I wasn't afraid of it even though I knew I was. I could feel my chest tightening and my throat clenching as I struggled to speak through the pure emotion pouring out of me, my vision blurring as tears rested in my eyes. "I can't justify what I did. I can't explain why I did it, it happened and I'll never forgive myself. Everyday for the rest of my life, I'll remember what I did. I'll never forget."

"No. You won't because I won't let you." It told me blandly but I wasn't going to let it get to me, or at least I wasn't going to show it just how much it was getting to me.

"I'm going to find out what you are and when I do, I'm going to _kill_ you." My voice was a low threatening growl as I stared levelly at my reflection, making sure to stress the word 'kill', placing as much emphasis on it as I could.

"Already told you what I am," it replied with a smile, not fazed in the slightest by my words, "I'm your conscience, that little angel on your shoulder and somehow, I'm thinking you _don't_ want to get rid of me."

I was about to reply, about to tell it where it could shove its lies and deceit but before I had the chance, I heard Sam calling my name. It was distant, as if the sound was travelling through water and not just the thin wall and door separating us. I could feel a warm hand on my arm, gripping it tightly, desperate and unwilling to let go and I nodded in understanding.

I was dreaming and Sam had come to wake me up. You think he would have learned his lesson from last time, you think he'd try to avoid a repeat of getting attacked by his older brother by _not_ waking him from his nightmares. But no; not my little brother - anyone else's maybe, but not Sammy.

Consciousness slowly drifted back to me and I opened my bleary eyes, not really needing to make out the silhouette standing over me but knowing instantly that it was Sam. The main light was turned on, illuminating the room and eliminating any shadows and my eyes adjusted quickly. I could see Sam's eyes practically shimmering; full of worry and fear _for_ me but not _of_ me. Thank God for that.

"You okay?" He asked me and he already knew the answer before I gave it to him. Hell, it never changed because no matter how crap I was feeling, I'd never let him know - at least not willingly.

"I'm fine…" It was a lie but he accepted it all the same because it could have been worse and we both knew it. For example, at least my knife was still under my pillow instead of at his throat.

I pulled myself up so my back was leaning against the pillows and my head resting against the wall while he took a seat on the edge of his bed, watching me. It was a more comfortable silence than the one we'd been in before slipping off into our separate nightmares and after mine, I welcomed it. I welcomed the silent presence of my brother as he sat there, letting me know that he'd always be at my side no matter what. I just hoped that it was true.

He said he didn't judge me on what happened in hell. He claimed it didn't affect the way he looked at me but I couldn't help but wonder. We'd both become so good at putting on a front, both changed so much in so little time and I wondered just how well we knew each other now after everything. And even if he was telling the truth, even if he forgave me for what I've done - I meant what I'd told my reflection, I can't forgive myself.

When it all comes down to it, when all is said and done, I don't really care what anyone else says because to me I'll always feel like a failure, I'll always be a broken hero who can't forgive himself. No matter what I do to try and redeem myself, it'll never be good enough because the man in the glass will always be there, staring back at me with those cold disappointed eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Thank you for reading!


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